chasing entropy
by closingdoors
Summary: Five times she didn't kiss her and one time she did. COMPLETE.
when you kiss me, i forget that love is just chemistry.
 **\- Chasing Entropy, inkskinned**

* * *

1.

* * *

Maura finishes the last of her paperwork as Jane – Detective Rizzoli, who is not, it turns out, a prostitute – knocks on her doorframe. She looks up to find the Detective already leaning against the wood, one leg crossing over the other, already completely comfortable despite this being only her third day in the Homicide division.

"Detective Rizzoli," Maura sets her pen down to avoid twiddling due to the nerves that suddenly swathe her. Detective Rizzoli makes her stomach warm in a way that usually makes her withdraw from people; she only wants to impress her, though. It is a new feeling. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, uh," the Detective scuffs her shoe a little against the floor. "I was wondering – Korsak and some of the others are going for a drink to celebrate closing my first homicide – and I thought well, maybe, you might wanna come too."

Detective Rizzoli shrugs, like it's nothing, but Maura practically startles at the invitation. She's worked here for years and she's yet to make one friend among the technicians and other M.E's, let alone a friend among the Homicide division. Her brain rattles through a list of ways to accept the invitation without appearing too eager. She can be a little overbearing at times, or so she's been told, too intense and crossing too many personal boundaries because of how much knowledge her brain holds.

"Oh!" She clears her throat, looking down at her desk. "Thank you for the offer, Detective – "

"Thanks but no thanks, right?"

Maura looks up, startled, as Jane shakes her head with a rueful smile. Her legs uncross and she moves as though she's about to leave. Maura feels her ribs tighten around her lungs so quickly her vision pops for a moment.

"Wait!"

She's out of her chair in a flash, rushing over to Detective Rizzoli in the doorway, catching her by the wrist to stop her from leaving.

"I was going to say: Thank you for the offer, I simply need to finish some paperwork first. Could I meet you there?"

Detective Rizzoli smiles. It's a little infectious. At the crime scenes she has been all sombre looks and determination, probably still trying to prove herself. This is new.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. We're going to The Dirty Robber. You know it?"

"Of course. I believe the majority of the department frequent there."

Rizzoli tilts her head. "But not you?"

Maura feels herself blushing. She and Detective Rizzoli hadn't gotten off to a very good start a few weeks ago, leading to awkward conversations during this case when Jane had joined Homicide. Somehow, though, she thinks that the Detective's jokes haven't been at her expense. The few she has made have been directed at her partner, too. And her presence had meant Maura hadn't needed to interact with the other – male – detectives quite so much, who mutter insults behind her back. Loudly.

Somehow Detective Rizzoli is the closest thing she has ever had to a friend.

"Well, I've never been invited along. I suppose they think I'm a little strange."

That makes the Detective grin again.

"You are," she says simply, laughing as Maura's jaw drops. "What? I never said it was a _bad_ thing."

Maura suddenly becomes acutely aware that she is still holding on to the Detective's wrist. She hasn't made her let go yet. She looks down, retracting her hand slowly, curling the hand into a fist as the pads of her fingers tingle a little.

"Promise you won't bail?"

She looks back up at the Detective, at her lips, thinking how _easy_ it would be.

How complicated.

"I promise, Detective."

"It's Jane."

She blinks, glancing back up to Jane's eyes. Is this what she has been missing out on all along, by burying herself inside of books and science?

"You can call me Maura."

The cocky grin on Jane's lips really is furiously addictive. She wants to see it again and again.

* * *

2.

* * *

Maura Isles is no stranger to the sterile environment of a hospital. While others perceive it as somewhat lacking, in some way depressing, she finds it reassuring. The environment is nothing if not clean. It is what is familiar to her and how she lives her life: without mess.

She fills in the visitors log and listens to the sound of her heels against the flooring as she heads to the end of the hallway. The silence. That's something else that is reassuring. Shouts and screams are only equivalent to mess. To some sort of complication. The peace is what lulls her into a sense of security.

Jane is asleep when she first steps inside her room, the lights dimmed. Maura studies the room – the multitude of flowers, the _Get Well Soon_ cards. All empty sentiments. She crosses to the window and watches the rain while she waits. If only it could wash away all of this blood.

Twenty minutes pass and behind her she hears a groan. She turns to find Jane cracking one eye open, peering at her.

"Hey," she says, voice gravelly and tired. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't visit."

Maura flushes a little before taking the empty seat beside Jane's bed. The Detective's eyes are still a little hazy, blinking owlishly. She almost permits herself to reach out and take her hand. The fear of rejection paralyses her.

"You've been turning people away all week. Even Korsak," Maura explains. "I thought… "

Jane huffs a small laugh, rolling onto her back and attempting to wriggle up a little. Maura reaches out for the bed's controls so that the top half of the bed supports Jane as she sits.

"I wanted to see you. You just…" Jane pauses, brows furrowing a little. "I dunno. Everyone likes to fuss. You don't."

Maura tilts her head. "You like that I don't fuss over you?"

"Yeah. I – I know that it doesn't mean you don't care. You just get that I, uh. You know. Don't want to make a big deal of things."

Jane almost seems shy admitting this, staring at a random spot on the hospital sheets. Maura feels a smile blooming, first in her chest, then dancing its way up to her mouth, and she has no desire to oppress it. Not with Jane.

They pass the first hour of Maura's visit discussing cases she's working on without Jane. It is not the first time that Maura is in awe of how good Jane is at her job; she throws every inch of herself into it, even though that may risk coming out scarred. She practically solves one of the cases then and there, making Maura write down the suspect's name whose alibi is most likely false and is being covered for. She does not show any sign of weakness, of ever stilling.

They carefully avoid touching on the subject of Hoyt.

As the afternoon draws to a close outside and the evening sky begins to pull itself up and over everything, a nurse arrives with Jane's dinner. The food is sad looking, the meat too dry and the potatoes undercooked. But she doesn't focus on this. She focuses on Jane's grimace when the nurse moves to feed her. She finds herself taking the cutlery from the nurses hands without thinking.

"I can do that," she tells her in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

The nurse appears to be too tired to argue. When she leaves, Jane will not meet Maura's eyes.

"Thank you," she murmurs. "Doctor's reckon it won't be another couple weeks before I can hold cutlery without, you know, pain."

"Knowing how fiercely you work, it won't take much longer than a week."

Jane gives her a half-smile. It falls as Maura begins to cut the sad meal into edible bites. Still, Maura knows, she'd rather this than a complete stranger stealing her dignity.

She does not speak as she feeds Jane. Simply feeds her a bite, waits, and repeats. Jane's eyes are burning with tears when they're done, so Maura excuses herself for a moment, headed to the bathroom. She splashes water on her face and waits for a few minutes, reaching for the hand towels to dry her skin, thankful she'd used waterproof make up that morning. Jane will have let the few tears fall by now. Still, she waits a minute longer, just in case.

When she re-enters the room, Jane is laying on her side, her limp hands curled against her chest, her dinner plate gone. She stares out and over to the window, her expression carefully void of any emotion.

Maura reaches for one of Jane's hands, gently cradling it in her own as Jane winces.

"When did they last change your bandages?"

"Last night."

Maura hums. "They should've been changed by now."

Jane does not need to ask.

Maura heads out to the hallway and catches a passing nurse, insisting she change the bandages herself. The nurse seems somewhat surprised but hands the fresh bandages over easily. Jane must already have some sort of reputation for herself here.

Jane remains silent as Maura slowly unwinds the old bandages from her hands. The swollen red wounds, both almost 2 inches long, are harsh and angry in comparison to her soft skin of her palms. She does her best to keep her face composed.

"Will they scar?"

Maura meets her eyes.

"Most likely, yes. They will fade in time. But not completely."

She does not expect her to react to the news. She doesn't. Simply holds still, legs hanging over the edge of the bed, one hand resting against her knee as Maura works a bandage around the other. She finishes with relative ease, surprised at her timing; she has not treated someone this way since medical school. She brushes her thumb across the bandages, over the top of the scars.

When she looks up, Jane is looking at her with wide, imploring eyes. As though Maura is the only person who exists.

Maura stands, so that she is only a little taller than Jane. In all of the time that she has known this remarkable woman, not one day has passed where she hasn't ached with the need to kiss her. Just once. She thinks maybe that could be enough. Jane fills up all of the space inside her with her presence anyway.

She leans in, unaware, not stopping until Jane's eyes fall to her lips. She turns and hears Jane sigh behind her, but she simply grabs her bag.

Jane is vulnerable. Any other day, she wouldn't look at her like that.

"You should get some rest," she tells her quietly, and, surprisingly, Jane acquiesces, leaning back in her bed.

But she calls Maura's name softly once she reaches the doorway.

Maura turns. "Yes?"

Jane's eyes still drink her in like she's never seen her before.

"Come back this weekend?"

"I promise."

Jane is smiling as Maura closes the door.

* * *

3.

* * *

The world around her is dark when she opens her eyes.

Gradually, she becomes aware of another body beside her, shifting a little. She blinks as her eyes adjust to the lack of light and recognises her guest room. It comes as little surprise when she rolls on her side and finds Jane.

They're still both in their day clothes, and Maura huffs when she feels the metal wire of her bra digging into her ribs uncomfortably. Jane seems to have no issue sleeping this way, however. Maura finds herself having to hold back a giggle as she studies her friend. A lock of hair is falling into her open mouth, one of her hands trapped beneath her in a way that must be uncomfortable, cheek smashed against the pillow. Not one inch of this image of Jane is surprising.

Sighing, Maura sits and stretches her arms above her head. Her back clicks in three different places, drawing the aches of sleeping in a strange position away.

Jane grabs for her as she moves to leave the bed.

"Stay," she mumbles, or, at least, it sounds like it.

Maura slips off her shoes, hesitating with the thought of how her make up will smear across the sheets, if it hasn't already. But Jane's hand remains stretched across the empty space she'd left behind, reaching.

She climbs back into bed.

She shakes Jane a little, to some sort of coherency, to encourage her to slip beneath the covers. Jane does, a little difficultly, the sheets ended up knotting around her knees. Maura laughs a little at that, watching as Jane smiles in return.

"It's going to be okay, you know," Maura murmurs. "Hoyt is in prison. Whoever is out there isn't half as dangerous as he is. He's just a copycat."

Jane's eyes open for the first time. In the hallway, Bass moves, making Jane startle, her automatic reaction to move closer and take one of Maura's hands. She feels everything inside of her still. The things that Jane Rizzoli does to her cannot be described.

"Yeah," Jane whispers. "Just a copycat."

Maura moves closer, her head resting on the very edge of her pillow. Until she can feel Jane's breath washing over her cheek. How very right it feels, to be with Jane like this.

"Go back to sleep, Jane."

Jane keeps looking at her, expectant, as she always does in the few moments she reveals her weakness to Maura. She knows all of the ways that she could smooth these worries away. Even reaches out to rest a hand against Jane's cheek, making her eyelashes flutter a little.

But she will not be a comfort like that if she is only wanted in the times she is needed. If, in the morning, Jane will continue looking at Dean out of the corner of her eye.

She gives her one last sad smile before she turns to lay on her other side.

* * *

4.

* * *

It is burning, she thinks. Loving Jane Rizzoli is burning.

She does not mean it in the way that love is a fire. Something to keep her warm. It is something awful that crawls along her skin and drags her through Hell while she cannot make a sound.

Still. She never does try to escape it.

Jane's blood is wet and thick and too much. Frost passes her his blazer before the request even leaves her lips. Korsak and Cavanaugh attend to Marino but her eyes are caught up on Jane and the wound and thank _god_ it's a through and through, but she still needs an ambulance, needs to be away from the sidewalk that is a breeding ground for infection –

"Jane? Jane!" She presses down using Frost's blazer on the wound, stemming the bleeding, rising on her knees to grip Jane's face with her other hand. Her eyes are slipping closed. "You have to stay awake, Jane. Please. Jane, stay with me."

She is too pale already. Too much blood lost, but there's nothing more she can do, not without the right equipment. Frost takes over, pushing his weight onto the wound, as Maura moves around to kneel by Jane's shoulders, cradling her face in her bloody palms.

"Jane, wake up," she demands, voice trembling. "You've got to – God _damn_ it, Jane - "

Maura rests her forehead against her friend's, letting the tears run free, despite the other detectives present at the scene.

And suddenly, Jane opens her eyes.

One of her weak hands reaches up a little, catching on the ends of Maura's hair.

"Hey, Maur."

"Oh, God, Jane," Maura chokes out in relief.

She does not move away. For a moment she is so overcome with the fear of losing her best friend that she shifts closer, her lips almost brushing Jane's.

But then she hears the sound of the ambulance and she sits up, still cradling one of Jane's cheeks with one hand while wiping her tears away with the other. In the process, she feels Jane's blood smear across her cheek. Her lungs almost spasm in response.

"I'm gonna be fine, Maura," Jane slurs, and Maura laughs, the pain easing away slowly.

* * *

5.

* * *

Once her mother has left for the airport, Maura checks her reflection in the mirror. Twice. Smooths down any errant strands of hair before reaching for her bag. Jane Rizzoli has some answering to do.

"Maura," Jane groans once Maura has reached her apartment. "It's only eight. On my day off."

"I always thought you would be an early riser," Maura responds, moving past her and into the apartment.

It's a little messy, as always, but Maura has come to learn that mess does not always equate to failure, or loss. Sometimes it means a woman with a smile that makes her lungs huddle closer to each other in her chest, curling around her heart. Sometimes it means home.

"Yeah, but eight is _too_ early," Jane sighs, flopping down on the couch beside her.

She draws a leg up onto the couch beneath her. Rests her elbow on the back of said couch with her temples pressed against her knuckles. Maura finds herself smiling a little. What a perfect blend Jane Rizzoli is – she is all of the things that had been missing in her life.

"You spoke to my mother."

"Uh, yeah, Maura. You invited us to dinner with her, after all," Jane says, then leans forward a little, eyes narrowing. "Have you hit your head or something?"

"No, Jane. My mental capabilities are still perfectly intact."

Jane grins. "There's the Maura I know."

Her heart flutters a little. She clears her throat before she speaks again.

"You must have said something to her. About me. Because she came to see us in The Dirty Robber, and she said with me until she left rather than a hotel. That's not what my mother usually does. She never has."

Jane shrugs, looking down at her lap. It only makes Maura grow even more curious. What on Earth could this woman have said that would make her mother reject the past thirty odd years of her parenting style?

"I just said a little something about how I felt," Jane admits with another shrug.

"And how do you feel, Jane?"

Jane groans, tilting her head back, but Maura does not give her the chance to escape the conversation with humour. She quells her laughter and finds herself transfixed by the taut skin of Jane's neck, the muscles lurking beneath. She has dedicated many nights to wondering how that skin would taste. How it would feel to press her lips against it over and over and hear Jane moan –

Maura's eyes widen as she shakes herself out of it. No. Not now.

"She doesn't treat you right," Jane answers finally. "Well – not many people do."

Maura frowns. "My mother is just – "

"Not behaving as a mom should at all?"

"Jane – "

"Maur, listen to me."

Jane shifts closer and takes Maura's hands between her own. She barely finds the capacity in her brain to remember to breathe. Everything else is caught up in Jane.

"You've told me before all about how your childhood made you fear that you could become like – like Hoyt. You recognised the problems there. They didn't treat you right, Maura, they neglected you. And you make all of these excuses for them when really there are no excuses. Your parents made mistakes raising you, a little more than most do. But look at how your mom has been trying these past few days because I said something. How happy it's made you."

Maura smiles. Jane frowns slightly.

"But, Maura, you should never have to _ask_ to be loved."

Some part of her wants to argue. That she's different. She's _her._ Strange and a little antisocial and, therefore, hard to love. And Jane is just. Well. She's _Jane._ She fills up all of the space inside a room, perseveres when it seems like there is no hope, and is unfailingly kind.

But there is something about Jane's eyes. The way she watches her. Like she means it.

She does not protest.

Instead, she leans forward a little, inch by inch. Closer and closer. Her heart begins to pound because oh God, she is going to kiss Jane Rizzoli, just like she has dreamed. And Jane isn't moving away. Jane _wants_ this. Doesn't she?

They both jump when there's an impatient knock at the door.

Jane clears her throat and Maura withdraws to the other side of the couch. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Jane answer the door to find her mother on the other side. Angela enters the apartment without asking, speaking faster than the speed of light, ranting about something Stanley has done. Jane looks at her apologetically over her shoulder as she follows Angela over to the kitchen.

She does not look back when she leaves.

* * *

1.

* * *

Jane leans against her kitchen counter with a long, tired sigh.

"Man, I am beat."

Maura smiles as she places the last of the dishes in the sink. The last of Jane's surprise birthday guests had left only ten minutes before, leaving them to clear everything away. She hasn't the heart to take the decorations down, yet, though. Something about being in Jane's apartment surrounded by horse decorations for the detective's birthday is somewhat endearing.

"It's been a long day," Maura says. And it really has.

Jane nods, fingers reaching up to press against the wound she has gained from Hoyt today. The last one. The man is dead, he is gone, and now, Maura hopes, she can sleep without the fear of him creeping round the corner to get her. She knows that Hoyt has been plaguing Jane ever since he forced his way into her life all those years ago. She herself has been constantly teetering on the edge with worry about Jane, terrified that one day she'll turn around and the one constant in her life will be gone.

Jane's eyes fixate on Maura's neck. Where Hoyt had cut her. Her own hand raises self-consciously at the three inch cut. It won't scar. She had barely bled out at all. It's simply a reminder of how close things had come.

"Here. Let me see," Jane murmurs, pushing off of the counter to stand close.

Maura's hand drops as Jane uses one of hers to push Maura's hair back, the other one holding it to the side. Her eyes track the clean edges of the cut, the precise style to Hoyt's idea of torture, letting her fingers drift against it. Maura's breath hitches without her permission.

For a moment, they are completely still, as Jane's eyes lift to Maura's. She finds herself absolutely paralysed. Too gripped by the fear of mess to move.

And then, Jane kisses her.

It is soft and chaste at first. Almost shy. And Maura feels her lips turning up into a smile at the thought of her making Jane Rizzoli shy. Smiles so much that they're no longer kissing, just stood together with lips brushing.

"Maura," Jane murmurs, quiet, almost regretful.

Maura pushes up on her toes to kiss her fiercely. Jane sways a little, surprised, caught by the kitchen counter that she pushes her up against.

Maura's hands find Jane's hair easily, cradling her skull as her lips work over and over Jane's. She feels hands settling on her hips, pulling them closer, and Maura can't help the soft _oh_ that falls out of her lips when their hips connect. Jane uses her open mouth to her advantage, though, and Maura almost passes out then and there at the feeling of their tongues meeting.

She gives as good as she gets. Because what if Jane regrets this, what if she leaves too, too repulsed by the woman who talks to much and kisses her like she needs her? Jane is terrified of commitment, after all.

 _Let this be enough. Let this be enough._

Jane releases her lips to take a breath but it's not enough. Her own lips find the soft skin of her neck, just below her jawline, kissing softly along the shadow of her jaw. And there's that low, gravelly moan she has been dreaming of. Jane's breath hitches as her hands slide down, slowly, so that she can monitor every moment of her body's reaction to her, until she finds her shirt. Hands sneaking up beneath it to meet the taut plane of Jane's stomach.

Jane gasps, moving again, gripping Maura's cheeks this time so that she can drag her back up for a kiss. The whole room is spinning when she pulls away again, dropping kisses against her neck and belatedly Maura realises Jane is kissing the mark Hoyt had left her with.

Their hands fall away from each other when she begins to cry.

"Please don't leave me," she manages to choke out.

Jane pulls her close, hugs her tight. "Why would I ever leave you?"

"Because," she takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. "You're so tough, so strong. You're amazing. And beautiful. And you have so many people that love you already, even without me."

"But they're _not_ you," Jane whispers, pulling away so that she can cradle Maura's cheeks. Her thumbs wipe at the tears she finds there. "You've no idea how terrified I was when Hoyt went after you with that scalpel today."

Maura takes one of Jane's hands, staring at the raised scar on the back of it.

"I think I have some idea."

Jane smiles.

She cradles Maura's cheeks so that she can kiss her again. Soft and slow, lacking desperation. Everything inside of Maura slows with it, her own heart beating loud in her ears. Jane Rizzoli is everything she has ever wanted.

"I am ridiculously in love with you, Maura Isles," Jane says, dropping a kiss to the end of her nose. "I want to be with you. If you'll have me."

Maura's cheeks flush. "Yes. Of course. Yes, I love you too – "

But anything more she had intended to say is swallowed by Jane's lips again. Again. Again.

It is only when she is laying down on the bed, Jane above her, around her, everywhere – that she tastes Jane's tears.

"Jane," she murmurs, and when she pulls away there is such _fear_ in her eyes. The same fear she has felt tumbling around inside of her own chest. Without thinking, she flips them, straddling Jane's hips. She leans down to kiss her again. "I know."

She does not go a day without kissing her again.

* * *

 **The End.**


End file.
